


Smell of Chalk

by ArtemisBrown, Biliouskaiju



Series: Spoonful of Sugar [3]
Category: Disney - All Media Types, Mary Poppins (1964), Mary Poppins - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Jolly Holiday, Wedding, chalk drawing, immortal Mary Poppins, lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisBrown/pseuds/ArtemisBrown, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biliouskaiju/pseuds/Biliouskaiju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wind will always, inevitably carry her back to London.</p><p>Mary Poppins has finally returned to answer Bert's proposal.</p><p>(Sad Ending Option 2)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smell of Chalk

The sun shone bright, and for once in a long while the weather had broken- winter had officially given up, and allowed a warm breeze whisk through the park to melt what remained of the last frost. Bert had spent the morning, as he had for so many years, carefully working on a street painting. He worked slower than he used to, keeping his strokes steady and deliberate to compensate for the shake in his hands, and his back only had the stamina for one, sometimes two pictures before it began to ache and he was sure his knees would break. He sat back, smiling fondly at the picture for several long minutes. A lovely green field, dotted with trees and a little bridge over a brook. And up in the sky, a small black shape that could have been a bird, but also could have been a woman holding an umbrella.

He adjusted his glasses, smile broadening before he carefully eased himself up to his feet with the help of his cane, and gave a sigh as he sat more comfortably on the park bench near where he had been drawing. Times had certainly changed, he thought to himself, taking in the park around him. Decades had lead to a war here, a movement there, evolution in fashion and attitudes… with ‘Pop Art’ becoming so popular, the young screevers he had mentored preferred bold colors and shapes and political statements, and he had encouraged them as best he could. His old cap had long since retired, but his newer one was looking fairly worn on the sidewalk at his feet. With only a few coins in it, it was clear simple scenic paintings were not nearly as popular, but he didn’t mind.

He did what he liked, and he liked what he did.

After a bit, he carefully scooped up the battered concertina from beside his chalk bundle at the foot of the bench, sliding his gnobbly fingers into the straps and placed on the buttons as though the instrument were an extension of himself. Singing these days brought on the Cough, but this last remaining piece of his old collection could do the singing for him. A familiar old tune. A tune he played often. It might have been as patched as his tweed suit, but the instrument sang just as strong as ever across the park.

* * *

London. It had been a very long time. Too long, even. She had said goodbye to the city decades ago, intending never to return. That was how she felt at the time anyway… Just like the wind, change was inevitable. Things had changed. She had changed.

Two wars had come and gone, and she had to wonder during each… was he okay? Particularly during the second world war, each time there was news of another air raid in England, her stomach dropped. Twenty years had passed, at that point, and she felt just as afraid for him as she would have, had she seen him only a week before. Still, she remained steadfast in her convictions. Each night, as she felt her heart tug her in the direction of England, just to find out if he was alive, she whispered to herself. “Not yet… not yet…”

After the war ended, there was an economic boom, but she found that her career as a nanny stayed very much the same. Wake up, see that the children get breakfast, take them to school, take them on an outing, play time, dinner time, bed time. The only thing that changed were transportation methods.

She had fallen into a routine once more. It was only after leaving one family, that she felt the wind blowing in the direction of London, stronger than ever. She finally nodded. “It’s time.”

On that particular day, Tuesday, she made her way to the old park alone. It had changed in the 40 years that had passed. The gazebo, no,  _their_  gazebo, looked to be long gone, replaced by a far less lovely overhanging with picnic tables underneath. Her reminiscing changed focus, as she heard the sound of a familiar old squeezebox. It almost felt like her heart stopped.

Mary Poppins looked very different than she had all those years ago. Style had changed a lot. Her hair was only chin length now, waved and curled attractively, with a large amount of hairspray (a creation she was quite fond of). Where once she wore ankle length skirts, tights, and heels, she had pants, and flat shoes (another thing she was fond of). In a simple, airy button up shirt with no sleeves, she suddenly found herself feeling quite bare, and improper, despite the fact that her appearance was nothing out of the ordinary. Would he know her if he saw her? Would Bert recognize her?

She found herself hiding on the other side of a tree, listening to the melodies he squeezed out. The tune was light and jaunty, and she was filled with nostalgia as it drifted through the warm air. All at once, mental images and old feelings filled her mind to the brim. The smell of chalk, a white dress, striped suits…

Had she ever seen the grass so green, or a bluer sky? She knew she hadn’t. Not before then, and not since.

Before she knew what was happening, tears were falling down her cheeks, and she was struggling against sobs. She heaved a sigh. He couldn’t see her like this. He had never liked complicated.

People seemed familiar with the old man on the bench, tossing him a coin a lot more readily. As the afternoon pressed on, he humored some young people who requested some band on the radio he was not familiar with, but matched their hummed tunes with enough enthusiasm and flair they were inclined to shout their “Rad, man, rad!” and dance in their funny modern dances, which in turn attracted more young people, and by tea time they had bought him a raspberry cake and a cup of tea and they had a picnic together before the crowd bustled off.

That was all well and good, since by then his hands were tired from the day, and he set his squeezebox away beside him and happily watched the wind in the trees, watching a family fly a kite across the way in the grass. There was something in the wind. He could feel it. It had been so long, he had almost overlooked it, but he could feel it deep in his bones.

The thought put a smile on his lips as he kept his eyes on the sky, hands resting on his cane on his comfortable park bench as he waited for the sun to set.

Mary was glad to see he hadn’t lost his touch, when it came to making people happy. He had always had a gift, where that was concerned. Even youths seemed to see the wonderful man underneath the wrinkles.

She watched him from that spot for a long time. All day, until the sun started sinking in the sky. It was then that she noticed his posture. He had fallen asleep there on his bench. Perhaps now it might be okay to at least get a better look at him?

Mary crept toward him, feeling much more light on her feet in these shoes, than back in the day. She leaned over the back of the bench to get a better look as his profile. It had rounded out in some places, gone gaunt in others, and sagged in some areas as well, but he was still, unmistakeably her Herbert Alfred. A sad smile tugged at her lips, and she resisted the urge to reach forward and touch him… to wake him… it wasn’t the right time yet. Besides, he was old. He could have a heart attack!

Instead, she sunk to the ground behind the bench, leaning back against shared wood planks, and against him. She stayed there for a time. The sky eventually grew dark, and stars painted the sky. She only wished she could see them as well as she could 40 years ago.

Bert had woken with a snort and a mumble, “Wooden Leg named Smith…” and took a moment of adjusting his glasses before he remembered where he was and relaxed. It was getting cold. He was disappointed he had missed the sunset, but he had had a busy morning, and the weariness had gotten to him lately. A quiet grunt as he stooped for his chalk bundle and his instrument, tucking them into a canvas bag from his pocket. It took a couple tries, but he was back up on his feet, stretching his back with a groan before carefully, slowly, making his way down the path back toward the street.

Mary had nearly fallen asleep herself, when he stirred. Suddenly afraid of being caught, she ducked lower. It was a needless concern, though. He seemed blissfully unaware of her presence, as though she were some sort of spirit watching over him.

When he finally managed to stand, she turned and watched him walk away, through the gaps in the wood. When she felt he was at a safe distance, she picked up her purse and stood, her eyes not leaving his hunched form. Perhaps it would be okay to follow him? She only wanted reassurance that he was living well.

For the first bit of the journey, as she quite adeptly stayed out of sight, things seemed promising. He was walking in the direction of Uncle Albert’s, who had long since passed, of course. She knew Albert had left him his house in his will. Maybe he still had it? Doubt began to worm itself into her mind… he had never been very frugal, and with the money he made, she didn’t think he could afford it…

Her concern was accurate. Bert turned a corner before Uncle Albert’s street, and continued to walk into worse parts of town. Eventually, they were walking in a dark area, lined with condemned buildings. Suddenly, Mary was feeling short of breath, like something was squeezing her lungs, or her heart. Sadly, she watched as he walked into an abandoned building.

Mary bit her lip and shook her head. She wanted so badly to do something, but she still felt that stab of fear. She had left him. Just  _left_  him, with hardly a word… and so long ago… Would he even forgive her?

“Coward…” she said to herself, aloud. “Such a coward…”

No matter how she tried, she could not will herself to take another step toward him. Instead, she returned to the home she was staying in, unable to look anywhere but the ground, her entire journey back.

* * *

The following day, she felt more prepared. She knew his position in life now. Perhaps things wouldn’t feel so jarring to her, and she could gather the courage to approach him.

Only, when she arrived at the park, he wasn’t there.

Mary waited there for two hours, growing more concerned by the minute. When the clock struck noon, she abruptly stood and hurried along the same path from the previous night.

Maybe he was just too old to work every day. Maybe he was working in a different location.

As she went, she found herself breaking into a jog.

There was always the worst sort of maybe, and Mary was determined not to leave him alone any longer.

Before long, she arrived at the building. There was a clear “no trespassing” sign out front, but it went ignored, and she opened the door and went inside. It was certainly abandoned, that much was obvious. Everything looked dusty, or broken, and it was mostly empty. Empty, except for one corner. That was where she saw him, looking cold, and shifting uncomfortably.

Not willing to waste another second away from him, she sped to his side, immediately taking his hand. Despite the many years since she had seen him, his hand felt just the same. She brought it up to rest her chin on their collective knuckles. When he finally looked her way, her eyes shined with yet more tears… but her ever fond smile crossed her face easily. “Hello, Bert.”

He lay on a bare mattress that had either been abandoned with the house, or he had somehow managed to drag there, and a threadbare blanket, his breathing labored as he turned blearily to the voice. For a moment, he looked confused. His hand was clammy in her’s, but that moment was brief as his smile returned and he wheezed softly, “I knew you was commin’.” This was punctuated by a sharp cough that shook his whole body.

His voice was weak, pitiful, and she jumped just a bit as he coughed violently. As he settled in again, she moved a delicate hand up to smooth his hair. As her soft fingers brushed against his forehead, she felt a surge of panic well up in her stomach. He was burning up. No longer quite as much of a concern in most, but still very worrisome in a man his age. She let out a nervous breath, and slid her hand down to rest on his cheek. “Wait here. I’ll come back soon. I promise.”

With that, Mary got to her feet again and hurried outside. She was sure she had seen a phone booth on the corner…

Fortunately, she was right. After only a few minutes, she returned to his side, lowering herself to sit on the stiff old mattress. Her hand naturally took hold of his once more. “I’m here. An ambulance is coming. You’re going to a hospital.”

“Baaah, ‘ospitals,” The old man huffed. After another few coughs, he cleared his throat, hands trembling as they reached up to take her’s. “You… you took your time, din’ you. Sorry I… I aint much of a dancer these days…”

Mary huffed a laugh and smiled. “I’ve always just enjoyed your company. You know that…” Her expression saddened again, and she was right back to struggling not to cry. “Bert, I’m so sorry. I’ve made such a terrible mistake…”

“Aint noffin’ t’be sorry about. Alrigh’, alrigh’, maybe… maybe we don’t got as much… as much time as we did-” Her hand felt so real, so warm, so soft and small in his hand. He didn’t remember her looking _so_  young. And he wasn’t a fan of her new hair cut.

She shrugged in acknowledgement, and sighed once more. “I should have returned much sooner. I’m just glad I came back before…” Finally, tears started falling again. Only around him, did she lose control like this. It was shameful. “Oh, Bert…”

The sound of sirens called out in the distance, slowly growing louder until they were right outside. Professional, curt voices rang out. The door opened, but Mary found that she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, terrified he would fade when she wasn’t looking.

“Oh, no, what ‘ave you done now,” Bert coughed again as the men crowded into the dank empty room. He kept as firm a grip on her hand as he could, as though she would fly away should he let go.

Mary swiped the tears from her cheek, letting go of his hand only when they moved him onto a stretcher. Fortunately, they didn’t seem too bothered by her riding along with them. The paramedics would have had a hell of a time prying their grip apart, anyway.

At the hospital, Mary waited impatiently as he was examined. She found herself unable to sit still, instead settling into a steady pace about the sitting area. Finally, the doctor returned- a nice young bespectacled man. He had been very understanding when she initially said she didn’t want to leave him alone, and he had patiently coaxed her out of the room. Many would have bit quite rude about it, she knew.

She nodded lowly in greeting, swallowing a lump that had formed in her throat. Her voice was so quiet, that for a moment she felt as though she had forgotten to speak. ‘Will he… will he be alright?”

The look on his face told her everything. In a strange way, she felt as though she had known it would be like this. “He’s suffering from a fairly serious case of pneumonia.” Her mouth flattened, and she nodded again, this time in acknowledgement. “We will do everything we can, but… you should prepare yourself…” A little regretful smile crept onto his face. “He would like to see you.”

Mary mirrored his expression, and walked off down the hallway to his room. The sight was much better than it had been early in the afternoon, at least. He was cleaned up, and looked more comfortable by far. She crossed the room and took the chair beside his bed, reaching for his hand again. Her mind screamed at her to apologize more, but she held it in. She knew that she would never be able to say it enough. A hundred times, and it still wouldn’t satisfy her. Instead, she simply said, “I’m here.”

And she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Mary…” He wheezed, cold hands folding around her fingers once more, smile returning to his face, “You shouldna’ bothered wif’ all this.”

“No, it’s no bother.” She swallowed thickly. “Besides, I need you to stick around a little longer… We have to get married, don’t we?” She repeated the words he used to say to her, with a little smile.

His breathing quickened for a moment, which brought on a fresh bout of coughs until he finally caught his breath and lay back again, concentrating on keeping them regular. He was happy to see her again- at least this one last time. But on the other hand… so much time lost. So much time they could have had together. Why did she have to come back now, when he was at the end of his song. Maybe that was why. She knew, somehow, he bet.

He smiled softly, hands trembling in her’s. “Is that a yes, then?

Mary brought his hand to her cheek, and nodded, chuckling. “I’ve heard of long engagements, but this must be the longest proposal in history.” She kissed his knobby knuckles, and lowered his hand again. Then, she unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse, reached inside, and pulled out a chain with a ring hanging from it. After a shy glance his way, she unclasped the necklace, and transferred the ring onto her finger. It had clearly been very well taken care of, the sapphire still sparkling prettily in the light. “I suppose we should set a date. How does tomorrow sound?”

His breath caught in his throat, eyes locked on the ring, and he was quickly overtaken by another coughing fit.

“Oh, oh dear…” She took his hand again, looking on with concern until he was finished. “I suppose I should be more careful not to surprise you…”

“S’not that!” He laughed roughly. “Just… just wish you’d said yes sooner, ahahahaha-” He leaned back again, eyes watery as his smile firmly remained. He let his hand slide up to her cheek again, gently running his thumb across her still practically perfect skin. “I’d make… make a great Mr. Poppins…”

“So you’ve said.” Mary’s face contorted, and a strangled sob finally escaped. Her free hand shot to her mouth in a loose fist, and she tried to regain her composure. It was long gone, of course. Her throat was tight, and even as she tried to squeeze out some words, she found them stilted and uneven. “I… I wish I’d- said yes sooner too.” After a deep breath, she bowed her head, shoulders still shaking. “I’m _so_  sorry. I’ve been so selfish!”

"Sssh, sssh,” He reached up to pull her down gently against his chest, his voice quiet, “I knew you’d come around.”

Bert and Mary had always been the hand holding, or arm-in-arm types. The select few times they had been this close, it had been very purposeful and needed. This was no different. She had always prided herself on her ability to keep her composure. Whenever she pictured this reunion, she imagined herself maintaining the utmost grace, not collapsing into a blubbering mess. Her fingers clutched his hospital gown, as she made pathetic attempts to hide her face. “I  _love_  you.” She shook her head weakly against his chest. “I can’t lose you, I can’t-“

His hand gently stroked the back of her head, “You won’t. Hey, listen… there’s… there’s a fing-” He swallowed a few more coughs that bubbled up from his aching lungs, but caught his breath quickly, “There’s a… a loose floorboard. Under me mattress. Could you go get them fings for me? No one finks t’swipe ‘em from there. I gotta’… gotta’ weddin’ present for you.”

Mary swallowed her last few sobs, and looked up at him. She wiped her tears away, embarassed by her outburst. She listened silently, chewing the inside of her cheek to keep herself in check and struggling to make eye contact. She nodded a few times as he finished his request. The last thing she wanted to do at a time like this was leave his side, but denying him would be cruel. “Alright,” she managed. Mary kissed him on the cheek then, on the same place from all those years ago in his home, before uneasily getting to her feet. She stopped in the doorway and turned to him. “I’ll be back soon.” With that, she was gone.

He let out a shuddering breath, relaxing back into the bed, smiling softly up at the ceiling as he closed his eyes happily.

He knew she’d come around eventually.

Freddy owed him a pound note.

* * *

Mary took a cab back to the building. The cabbie was hesitant to wait up for her, while she went into the condemned building, but with an extra ten pound note, he was convinced to stick around.

If she thought about it, she had felt similarly to this before. Like she was constantly about to cry, even after she thought she’d gotten it out of her system. It had just been a very long time, and she knew she had made it through before. She knew that, but she wasn’t sure she could do it again. Maybe after this, she would go stay with Yen for a while. Maybe if he saw how miserable she was this time, how deadened she was all the way down to her core… maybe he would change his mind. Maybe she could finally…

No. She wouldn’t allow her thoughts to wander there. Not yet, anyway.

She walked over to the spot she had found him. Upon moving the mattress aside, she easily found the loose board. Underneath seemed to be all his valuables. She wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted her to bring, so she thought bringing along all of it would be best. In one arm, she carried a suitcase, and a portfolio, and in her other, a worn, dirtied straw boater that she had put his chalk tin, and a few other smaller things into.

As she walked back out, Mary felt a strange sense of deja vu. She had done this before. She had done it six times. This would be the seventh. Never again, after this.

The cab ride back was uneventful. Mary found herself staring down at the straw boater, filled with memories. One of her fingers wandered the rim. It looked like at one time, it had been identical to the one from that day.

At the hospital, she gathered up everything, and hurried back to his room.

He had fallen asleep while she was gone, breathing slow and labored, but at least breathing. “Mmm-” He seemed to know just as she had entered that she was there, “That was fast.”

She smiled that loving smile at him, and carried the load to his bedside. “You know me. I never was one to waste time.” But wasn’t that exactly what she’d done with him? What she’d done for forty years? “Not usually, anyway.”

He laughed quietly, before motioning for her to bring them forward. “The… the portfolio.”

Mary hesitated, unsure if she should open it, or him. Finally, she undid the clasp, and offered it to him.

He stopped her, indicating with his hands for her to riffle through. There were only a few inside, all on thick board for the most part. Some water colors, some acrylic, some pastels, but only one was carefully wrapped in waxed paper and tape, on it written ‘For Mary’.

Mary gave him a quizzical look, and pulled it back into her lap. She moved the flap back, and starting sifting through the few things inside. Finally, she saw the one in particular. The one meant for her. She withdrew it carefully, and gently opened the wax paper. The subtle smell of chalkdust drifted up, and for just a moment, she lost focus. She was lost in that lovely, stormy sunset in a field of wildflowers, or riding on a private carousel, and for a brief moment, even in the clouds.

As her mind cleared, her gaze focused on the image. An intricate bridge leading across a still stretch of water. On the other side, under a weeping willow, sat an intricate white table and chairs, with a lovely spread for tea. Beside the table, a man and a woman were dancing, their meal long forgotten.

And there it was again. That hard lump in her throat. She couldn’t cry again. At least not while this lovely chalk drawing was sitting in her lap. Water and chalk had never meshed well… “Bert, it’s… it’s so lovely.”

“Sprayed it wif’… ‘airspray,” He wheezed with a laugh. “See? Can visit me anytime y’like, ahaha-” The second bit of laughter turned into a cough and he leaned back to wait for his lungs to clear again. He should stop talking- the doctor had advised him against it, but nuts to the doctor. This was his fiancee, after all. “Give the… the squeezebox to Yen. I wanna’ ‘aunt it to annoy him.”

Tears barely clung to her lashes as she listened. Before she could ruin anything, she wrapped the wax paper around it once more, and quickly reached a hand up to catch her tears. The mention of Yen gave her a chuckle. “You would be surprised. He might enjoy the company.”

He gave a snort and a laugh, hand out for the painting for a last look.

Mary sighed and moved the paper aside again, carefully handing it to him. “We’ll always have our jolly holiday, won’t we…”

“We could go again, you know.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she perked up a bit, and found herself nodding quickly. After moving the chair, and laying the drawing on the ground, She took hold of his hand and helped him into a sitting position. “Ready?”

He swallowed a few more coughs as she eased him up, his face regaining a bit of life as he glanced up to make sure none of the nurses were watching. It would be too late, anyway. He nodded, taking her hand tightly.

“One… two… three…” She jumped with him, though it was really more like falling, and as always, all that remained of their presence was a puff of chalk dust.

The scene was just as she remembered. Green, green grass, and a brilliantly blue sky. She had almost forgotten how perfect her dress was, all soft, white material, with red detailing. Upon touching her hair, he could tell even it had reverted back to how it was all those years ago.

With a look to Bert, she saw exactly what she expected: a young man in a straw boater and a candy striped jacket. She was sure her smile was broader than it had ever been, and she found herself hurrying into his arms, and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Just how I remember… Everything’s exactly the same.”

He stood up straight with a deep, happy sigh, “Well, THA’ Certainly feels better!”

So long- he had almost, for a time, wondered if maybe he was mad and had imagined the decades of magic and adventures, but after a certain time he had concluded it would be mad to think of it anything else than what it was- magic and adventures. He didn’t know how it worked. Magic was funny like that. He hadn’t even been sure if THIS would work, but he could  _imagine_ …

Mary stepped back and opened the familiar parasol. She rest it on her shoulder, and stood next to him, lacing her fingers through his. As she started walking, there was a distinct hop in her step.

_“Look at this glorious day_  
_mild as a morning in May_  
_the birds just coast on by…_  
_I had never seen_  
_the grass so green_  
_or a bluer sky!_

_"Oh it’s a jolly holiday with you Bert!_  
_You always make my day seem right._  
_Through our times though trying and full of hurt,_  
_you’ve always helped me see the light._

_"You’ve never grown frustrated or resentful,_  
_despite my fears and foolish point of view!_  
_When you are by my side_  
_I’ve no need to hide._  
_You hold my hand, my worries all subside._  
_Oh it’s a jolly holiday with you, Bert!_  
_No wonder that I’m here again with you.”_

It had been so long, too long, since he last sang. The past few months especially, his breathing had given him trouble, and with the illness that had taken hold the past few days especially it was out of the question… but here in their private chalk fairylands, he could breath deeply and easily, walk without his joins aching and the weariness that had held him down for so long ebbed away.

_"Oh, it’s a jolly holiday with Mary,_  
_Ladies of your sort are few,_  
_Believe me I ‘ave looked around a lot, dear,_  
_It always lead me back to you!_  
_You may ‘ave took some time t’come around, dear_  
_I knew you’d see your error in the end!_

_"I aint needn’t fear_  
_When you are near_  
_Life just is complete when you are here!_  
_Oh, it’s a jolly holiday with Mary,_  
_A jolly, jolly holiday with you!”_

He laughed, leaning in to kiss her, his hands clenching her’s tightly. “I’ve been waitin’ for this day for a long time, Mary. And… and I’ve got a surprise for you! Come along!”

He pulled out of the kiss too soon. She had waited forty long years for this, and she knew their time was somewhat short. That was terribly hard to believe though, seeing him in his youthful state. All she knew was that her hand clutched his right back, terrified of letting him go. “A surprise, hm? You did always seem to have those waiting for me in these fairylands…” Mary followed along, sticking close.

"Yes, well, there’s always SOMEFING behind a tree or around the bend in a road or over a hill. Thems always the best surprises,” He breathed her in, the world in, the pain and exhaustion gone… and indeed, just around the bend in the road, there lay a pergola covered in flowers with white lattice, and a funny little old priest with a large nose and a kind smile waiting for them. There were chairs laid out for guests, soon occupied by several foxes, badgers, squirrels, turtles and whatever else decided to come along for the event.

As the scene came into view, Mary’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t imagine anything more suited to the two of them. Suddenly, she felt a little foolish, for thinking about scheduling a priest to come by the hospital. It would have felt strangely somber, given the sorts of things the two of them normally did. But this? Chairs filled with the most darling animals she had ever seen, and a man she knew was custom tailored to them to do the job? Somehow, here in this chalk painting, it felt more natural than out there.

Mary looked at Bert, so fine in his nice suit and hat. She was speechless for the moment, torn between all sorts of responses. “Now?” “Are you ready?” “This is perfect.” Each wanted to tumble out of her mouth at the same time. Instead of saying any of them. She leaned in and kissed him again, her hand moving from his hand, to wrap around his waist.

He beamed down at her for a moment before waggling a finger, “Wait wait wait, we gotta’ do this right!” He laughed, kissing her nose before hurrying off to stand by the priest.  There was a quack from somewhere about knee-level, and a penguin that looked like it wasn’t sure if it wanted to beam proudly or break into tears offered her his flipper.

As he released her hand, her stomach dropped. She shook her head a little. It wouldn’t do, to get caught up in uneasiness about the near future, right when she was supposed ot get married. Ridiculous.

At the sound, she looked down. Mary couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to be the same overly affectionate penguin from all those years ago. “Quite smartly dressed, at that,” she observed. After closing her parasol, and leaning it against a chair in the back row, her hand rested atop his wing lightly. The two of them started steadily walking down the aisle. As she walked, she could swear she heard the wedding march on the wind.

The penguin fully burst into tears, as she parted from him at the end of the aisle, and he took a seat in the front row beside three others. Yes, she was sure now that they were the waiters from before. A light laugh escaped, and Mary turned to Bert, beaming. Her hands returned to his, as she gazed at him through her bright blue eyes.

It was a simple ceremony, short and to the point, but thoughtful all the same. No sooner had both ‘I do’s been uttered, his hands were around her, his lips locked with her’s, and their congregation roared with approval and tossed rice.

As his arms wrapped around her, and she held him back, she had a sense like she was about to float away. For a moment, she had forgotten their predicament. It was just him, and her, and nothing else mattered in the slightest. She was sure this was the happiest she had ever been in her overlong life. She kissed him a second time, for good measure, before separating from him, feeling weak in the knees, and dizzyingly happy.

In lieu of a reception, the two of them spend the day dancing across the countryside together, and enjoying the privacy found between the trees. As the sky darkened, they found themselves relaxing on a blanket in a green field. Her hat was gone- where, she wasn’t sure- and she had let her hair down. It was strange to see it so long agan. She missed it.

Mary lay there in the crook of his arm, curled up against him, and examining a piece of her own hair. She just couldn’t get used to the length… After a moment, she released it, and wrapped her arm around his torso again, nuzzling his neck, just breathing him in with her eyes closed. She pressed a kiss to the spot where neck met jawline, and mumbled against his skin. “I wish today would never end…”

“Hmm,” Bert mused quietly, quite content to lay and watch the stars twinkling above in a sea of deep blues and purples- he never did like using flat blacks. It was as though the afternoon had taken what energy he had been storing for so many decades, waiting for this night.  "You know, this would be a great place to retire, I think.“

Mary opened her eyes, and propped herself up on her elbows to look at him more easily. “What do you mean?”

He was quiet for another moment, eyes closed as he gave a soft sigh. It passed and he kept his eyes up at the stars, “I fink I’ll stay. You should probably hurry before a nurse cleans up the picture, though.”

"Oh…” She stared at him for a moment, hurt, but understanding. After a moment, she leaned forward and kissed him fiercely. When she pulled away, she rest her forehead on his. “I’ll visit all the time…”

“I aint goin’ no where,” He grinned across their noses, eyes clearer than they had been in a long time. “And you better. What sorta’ ‘usband would I be if I did?” He leaned in to catch her lips again for good measure.

Mary didn’t want to stop kissing him. She didn’t want to face what was on the other side of that blue, starry sky… but she knew she had to, if only to protect the drawing. With a final kiss, she felt herself pulling away from him.

Suddenly, she was sitting in her chair again. Her uninteresting, bland clothes were back, and everything felt eerily silent, and stale. She stared down at her hands, afraid of what she would see when she looked up.

Finally, bravely, her gaze shifted to her husband in his bed.

Bert lay there, perfectly still, and pale. Her stomach lurched, and she felt the tears welling up again. It was quiet this time. Tears fell, but there were no sobs. Eventually, she stood, bent over, and whispered something in his ear. Before pulling away, she pressed a kiss to his cold cheek.

Mary went to wrap up the drawing again, and froze. It had changed, since they were inside. Now, it was the very field they had just been in, and there he was, lounging in the grass…

She didn’t feel so afraid anymore.


End file.
